Good Directions
by IndependenceIndividuality
Summary: Thank God for good directions and turnip greens.  AU/AH, one-shot.


**A/N:** Hello my lovelies! This is something I've had sitting in my desktop forever and only got finished up tonight. So to begin, I need to thank the lovely **BlackImprint** (author of the epic story _The Wolf Prince_) who helped me formulate the ending for this story so I could finally post. I'd also like to thank the other ladies who preread for me while I was trying to figure out how to get Jake and Nessie to kiss.

I'm still not completely happy with my writing near the end, but it's late, and I'm usually not very happy with anything when it's late. I hope you guys don't feel the same. I'm working on about a hundred-million things in real life, so I'm sorry I've been neglecting y'all. I'll do my best to reply as much as possible. Know that I miss you. I hope you miss me too.

Anyone who's interested can follow me on twitter for updates about what I'm writing and what annoys me and what I'm eating for lunch: (at)**_writeitaway_**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the title, the summary, the plot, or even the final line. I seriously just wrote _Good Directions _by Billy Currington out on paper. I suggest listening to it while you read. Enjoy!

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><p>Good Directions<p>

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_"Remote area. Cannot download data. Use local map."_

"I heard you! I heard you!"

Maybe it wasn't the most mature thing in the world to do, but screaming and banging my hand against the stupid plug-in GPS made me feel a little better. It had been repeating the same message twice a minute for the last twenty, ever since I pulled off the highway for an emergency pee break. I'd managed to ignore it for the first ten minutes in the hopes I'd soon find my way back to the interstate and it would stop. Around minute seventeen, I was wondering why the hell I had been so stubborn and not listened to Daddy about flying to Seattle and letting him have my car shipped out. By minute twenty, I had had it.

Who would have a map for this place? Like I just walked around with maps of all the random deserted byways in America in case my directionally challenged self got lost on one with a useless GPS and no cell service.

Daddy was right. He knew how I was when it came to navigation. He was the one who wanted me to fly out so Aunt Rose could pick me straight up from the airport and deliver me safely to my new apartment. He was the one who said I should have a real GPS system installed in my car, because it was a long way and you never know what might happen, Renesmee. You need to be prepared.

But, no, I knew what I was doing. I wanted to be independent! I was going to college, I was an adult. I could drive myself the entire way, thank you very much, and I didn't want to install a GPS into my dash because how would that look in a classic rebuilt car? It was a straight shot! From one highway to the next, just go straight until you get there! I can handle it, Daddy, relax and let me grow up.

Who would have thought it was so easy to get lost driving from Phoenix to Seattle? Who would have thought changing from highway to highway would be so hard? Who would have thought that I was _stupid _enough to get lost trying to get back on the interstate?

_"Remote area. Cannot download data. Use local map."_

"Shut - UP!"

Again, tearing the GPS off the dash and flinging it into the backseat didn't help at all except in making me feel better, and it didn't even really do that. God, who was I kidding to think I could do this? Now I was lost in the middle of nowhere in some place that looked like where the college students in cheap horror flicks breakdown right before the inbreds come slaughter them.

I was debating whether or not it was worth it to do a U-turn on this stupid deserted road and drive the twenty miles back to the creepy gas station to ask for directions, and considering whether breaking down and crying would make me feel better or worse when I finally saw something coming up ahead of me. At first it looked like a breakdown, so I slowed down a little but not much - I'd watched too much Court TV to be stopping for anybody on the side of the road - but as I got closer, I realized it was a vegetable stand.

I did a relieved little jig in my seat. Directions! Yes! Good sir, please point me to the nearest way out of this never-ending stretch of abandoned hell, and I shall owe you my life. Not really though, and I have pepper spray and a gun, in case you are a psychopath.

The truck was a faded-red, beat-up Chevy - at least forty years old - and would probably go for a lot once it had been fixed up, but you could tell a new body job and shiny paint wouldn't really be useful for the truck's current use. The tailgate was down and the back was full to the brim with what looked like turnips. Beside the truck, a man was leaning back in a plastic lawn chair, a cowboy hat pulled low over his face.

What was this, a country music video?

The man sat up as I pulled up, lifting his head and pulling the hat off his face. He set it on the tailgate of the truck and stood up, just as I was getting out of the car. I clutched my no-service phone in my hand and stared, for just a second.

He didn't look like any man I'd ever seen in a country video. He was tall as a doorway and almost as wide, with copper-colored skin and long black hair, pulled back off his face. And his face . . . well, that was something else entirely. Beautiful. Wow. If they made them like that around here, I might have to rethink calling this place hell.

"Hey," he called out, and flashed a smile. His teeth were bright white against his dark skin. "Need some turnips?"

I shook my head and smiled out of pure nervousness, bringing the hand with my phone in it up to shield my eyes even though it wasn't that sunny. This was mortifying - explain to the hot guy you can't navigate something as simple as getting off the highway and then getting back on. That's endearing.

"This is really embarrassing," I said, trying to force my voice to sound normal, but a nervous laugh escaped. "But I think I lost the interstate."

And by think I mean know, and by lost I mean drove twenty-five miles on an abandoned road expecting it to pop out at me.

"It's not embarrassing." His voice was deep and assuring. He could have a serious career reading recorded books. I'd buy every one of them. "Signs fall down and never get replaced. The roads around here are really confusing if you haven't lived here your whole life."

I took a few steps closer without realizing it, and brought my hand down from my face. From my closer view, I could really see his eyes: so brown they were almost black, but not intimidating. Though he could have easily been intimidating if he wanted to be, he was so huge. He looked like a football player, not a farmer. My eyes fell to the sleeve of his t-shirt, how close it clung to his bicep.

"That makes me feel a little better," I said quickly once I realized I'd just been staring like a lunatic. I sucked in an embarrassed breath. "So . . . could you tell me how to get back?"

I watched his eyes flit back up to mine - where had they been before? On my mouth? I think I liked that. He smiled a little and my heart beat faster.

"Sure, sure," he said, kinda quickly too, and walked past me, back towards my car. I smoothed down my sundress and let my eyes take him in from behind. His hair, thick and shiny, was held back with a rubber band and extended right past his shoulder blades. "C'mere."

He stopped right in front of my Mustang and beckoned me. I followed on awkward-feeling feet, raking my fingers through my curls. Why hadn't I checked myself before I got out of the car? What if I looked crazy?

When I was right beside him, so close I imagined I could feel the heat radiating off of him - I imagined he'd be warm - he turned and looked down at me. He felt so much taller up close, but that might have been because I was so short. He probably thought I looked like a munchkin.

"Where you heading?"

"College," I managed to get out without stuttering. Standing so close to him, my stomach was doing backflips. He smelled _good_. "Seattle University in . . . in Seattle."

I laughed nervously at my redundancy. He smiled wider than before, the corners of his eyes turning down, and my knees _almost_ buckled. What was wrong with me?

"A college girl." It sounded so much cooler when he said it. "Makes sense. Do you like it?"

"I've never been," I answered honestly, surprised he was even asking. "I just got accepted. I have family there. I hope I like it."

I couldn't stop looking at his face, but where else was I supposed to look? We were standing less than a foot away from each other - the only other option was his chest. Which I wouldn't mind, but that was probably rude.

"I hope you like it too," he finally said, after a long pause. He took deep breath and swung his head back around, looking forward, over my car and towards the road. "You said you're looking for the interstate?"

"Y-yeah," I heard myself say quietly. "Please."

"No problem." He lifted a muscular arm above my head, to point in the direction I'd been heading. "Keep going about ten miles in that direction, until you get to the rez - that's the Quileute reservation - and right before you get there, on the left hand side there's an old country store. You've got to stop in and ask Ms. Clearwater for some of her iced tea." He looked down at me and my stomach flipped again. "Okay?"

"Okay." My voice was so quiet he probably didn't even hear me.

"Then a left will take you to the interstate," he promised, bringing his arm back down to his side. He took a step back and faced me. Put his hands in his pockets. Our eyes locked and once again, I couldn't look away. "But a right . . . will bring you right back here to me."

Right back here to him.

They were just directions. A simple warning that turning right would lead me back the way I came, but they made my breath catch in my throat. I'd never _been_ like this before. Sure, I'd seen cute guys - hot ones even - but nobody who made me want to do crazy things like ask if I could touch his hair, or see if his skin was as warm as it looked. I'd never experienced a connection like this, this strange attraction that was so compelling I felt like I might not be able to control it.

It was scary.

"Th-thank you," I managed to get out, my voice high and breathy. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, but my heart was still tha-thumping in my chest. "Thank you so much."

"Sure, sure."

He just stepped back again so he wasn't blocking the door of my car. I stood at the door but didn't get in. It felt . . . unfinished.

I turned back and opened my mouth to say something - I don't even know what, just something - but he looked like he was about to say something too. I stopped and so did he. Two or three seconds passed of nobody saying anything. I put one foot in the car.

"Seattle's only about four hours from here, so you should make it before dark," he finally said, and I was relieved to hear I was so close. I nodded and forced myself to get in. "Try not to have too much fun in college."

"Oh, I won't." I didn't realized until after I said it that it made me sound like a stick in the mud, but he just smiled. It was a small smile, but still a smile. "Um . . . thanks again."

He just nodded. I looked at him for one more long second, his long legs and broad chest and incredibly beautiful face. It felt incomplete. But what was I going to do? Stay here and chat up the hot guy I found on the side of the road? Forget school and stay here in Middle of Nothing, Washington and marry the turnip guy? There was no way to make any part of this situation sound normal.

So I shut the door. I started my car and backed out.

I'd been alone with myself in this car for almost three days, but I suddenly felt lonely. I felt like something was missing. Like the roller-coaster stopped at the top and I was told to get out. I felt cheated. I also felt stupid.

I let myself check the rearview mirror one last time as I was driving away, just one last look, but he was facing away from me. I watched him kick the lawn chair he'd been sitting in over - it skidded across the dirt and flipped upside down - and then the road curved and I couldn't see him anymore.

I tried to keep Hot Turnip Guy's directions in mind as I drove, but I kept thinking about him instead, and his 'right back here to me.' About his thick, dark hair and full lips and white teeth. I kept thinking about if he had tried to kiss me, how I probably would have let him. How I _wanted_ him to. I kept thinking how ridiculous this was, considering I'd never kissed _anyone_ before. Did I wait eighteen years just to kiss a guy I met on the side of the road? No, the other side of me argued, you waited eighteen years to find somebody you want to kiss - and you wanted to kiss him, bad.

I shook my head and kept driving, even though I felt worse with every mile I drove. Daddy always said I was too young to be as nostalgic as I was, but I couldn't help it. Was that it? I meet the single-handedly most gorgeous man I've ever laid eyes on by absolute chance in the middle of nowhere, who draws this ridiculous story-book reaction from me, then he gives me directions - and what? I just drive off and never see him again?

It just felt sad.

But like I already told myself, what was I gonna do? I was going to do the normal thing, take the directions and get myself to school. Follow the road until I get to the Quileute Reservation . . . oh. That would explain the beautiful skin and long hair. I suddenly had a hundred more questions, but then a sign for the reservation came up on the right. Then, on the left, was a small wooden building that looked like an old house.

Follow the road until I get to the Quileute Reservation, and on the right hand side there'll be an old country store. I was supposed to stop in and ask Ms. Clearwater for some tea. Well, I didn't really have time for that. I was already about an hour behind, and if I didn't get to an area with cell service and check in soon, Daddy would probably dispatch the National Guard. I didn't even care for tea that much anyway.

I pulled in.

"Renesmee, you are ridiculous," I told myself, as I checked my face and hair in the mirror. I was relieved to see I didn't look crazy, although I obviously was. I shut the mirror and grabbed my purse from the backseat, snatching it out from underneath the wreckage of my GPS. "It's not like he's gonna be in there, you just left him on the side of the road with a truck full of turnips."

I got out anyway, locked my car, and smoothed my dress.

The door was a real door, not even glass, so I felt awkward opening it. Should I knock? God, what if I understood wrong and this turned out to be somebody's house? I was gonna get shot.

It was a store, so I didn't get shot. It was very quaint, more restaurant than convenience store, with pictures and newspaper clippings and road signs hanging on the walls. One said 'Interstate' and under it '1 Mile Ahead'. So that's what happened to the sign once it fell down.

"Can I help you, honey?"

My head snapped around to see a middle-aged woman in jeans and a t-shirt standing behind the wooden counter. She had short salt-and-pepper hair and the same beautiful skin as Hot Turnip Man, with maybe a few more wrinkles. She was smiling and it made her look like a mom in every sense of the word.

"Are you . . . " I paused as I tried to remember the name Turnip Guy had given me. Why hadn't I asked _his_ name? "Ms. Clearwater?"

"Not if you're looking for money, I'm not," she said, setting down a rag she'd been holding and walking around the counter and to the little table set up at the other corner of the store, where a group of _huge_ boys sat. I wasn't sure what to say, but then she looked back at me and winked. "I'm kidding, hon, what can I help you with?"

"Well, um . . . " Hot Turnip guy told me to stop here and I really don't like the idea of driving further away from him so I stopped. "I got lost coming off the interstate and I stopped for directions at the turnip stand up the road, and the guy there said I should stop in and ask Ms. Clearwater for some of her sweet tea."

I tried to smile winningly, but I'm sure I looked like a psychopath. Hi, I just murdered an entire family I found on the side of the road, including Hot Turnip Guy, and I'd like some sweet tea for desert please.

"Oh?" Ms. Clearwater looked surprised. She raised her eyebrows, half-smiling, and one of the huge boys lifted his head. "That's Jacob - how sweet of him to tell you that. He's never done that before."

Jacob. Hot Turnip Guy's name was Jacob.

I couldn't help but smile to myself, just a little.

"Well, none of the people looking for directions ever looked like her," said the huge boy who actually had a baby face, and I felt my face burn. Looked like me how? I checked myself before I got out of the car!

"Seth Clearwater, you know better than to talk to a woman like that," Ms. Clearwater snapped . . . at her son? "You apologize while I get her some tea."

"Thank you," I said, unsure of what else to say, but she was already off back behind the counter and out of earshot.

"I was just saying she was pretty!" The baby-faced boy named Seth said back to his mother, raising his voice so she would be able to hear. He turned back to me, smiling broadly. He didn't look ashamed in the least. "You're very pretty - that's all I meant."

My cheeks got hot. I could _feel_ them turning red.

At least he thought I was pretty, not crazy-looking.

"Th-thanks."

The two other huge men sitting at the table with him snickered and he aimed a kick at them. I thought I heard something that sounded like "gonna tell Jake," but I probably didn't. The other two were huge just like Seth, with the same dark skin and broad shoulders, but they didn't have baby faces. They were all handsome, but they had nothing on Hot Turnip Guy . . . Jacob.

What was in the water at the Quileute Reservation?

" . . . Jake's a good kid," I realized Ms. Clearwater was talking when she was back in front of me with a massive styrofoam cup of tea. I took it with both hands and the boys sitting at the table behind her snickered. "I'm sorry for my unwashed son - "

"Hey, I washed this morning!" He shouted, making the other two boys at the table burst into a round of raucous laughs. Ms. Clearwater rolled her eyes. "And I was just paying her a compliment!"

"Anyway, it was nice of him to tell you to stop - he likes to carry on about the tea, but it's nothing special," she continued, ignoring her son. "Are you just passing through?"

"Yes," I said, a little sadly as I thought of Jacob and his dark, handsome eyes. I took a long drink from the huge cup for something else to think about. "Wow, this is really good - but yes, I'm on my way up to college in Seattle."

"A college girl . . ."

"Seth Clearwater, that's enough - go do something in the back!"

"That wasn't even me!" Seth immediately roared in disagreement. "That was - _Embry_!"

From what it sounded like, Embry just got kicked.

"It's okay, really," I said, just to ice it over. It seemed good-natured anyway and it wasn't like I was ever going to see any of these people again. "I should get going anyway - my family is expecting me this evening. How much for the tea?"

Ms. Clearwater smiled and the corners of her eyes crinkled up.

"Nothing for you since Jake sent you." When I tried to protest, she cut me off. "Ah - I don't want to hear about it. And you stop in and see us if you're ever back in the area."

"I will," I promised, but I knew the chances were slim. I thought about Jacob the hot turnip guy and I was suddenly sad again. "I . . . and tell - Jacob that - that I said thanks. The tea really is amazing."

"I will, honey." She winked and it made me smile despite myself. "What's your name? I don't think you ever mentioned."

"Renesmee," I admitted, and received the expected eye-widening. "I know, it's not a real name. My mom made it up."

"Well, I like it." It was kind of her to lie. "And I'll be sure to tell Jake you said it was worth stopping in."

For one short, crazy second, I had this wild fantasy, where Jacob gets my name from Ms. Clearwater and looks me up on the internet (there's only one Renesmee), and we start corresponding. I drive down to this abandoned stretch of town on a break or he drives up on a weekend and we somehow finally meet. And then finally, maybe I'd find out what it's like to kiss him.

But that was ridiculous and I knew it.

So I just raised my huge cup of tea and said, "Thank you so much - it was nice meeting you, Ms. Clearwater - and you too, Seth."

Then with a wave from the baby-faced Seth and smile and goodbye from Ms. Clearwater, I walked out the door. I got back in my car, put my huge cup of tea in the arm rest compartment because it wouldn't fit in the cup holder, and started the engine.

I pulled down the mirror and looked at myself again.

This is not a romantic comedy, I told myself. You are going to put this car in gear and drive straight to Seattle, where you will spend the next four years in school and never see the gorgeous turnip guy named Jacob ever again. He was amazingly handsome, but so are a lot of other people - this was a chance encounter on one day of your life. You'll undoubtedly have a thousand more before you're dead.

So stop being so fucking nostalgic and drive. You aren't losing anything.

I stared into my own eyes for another long second before I rolled them and shut the mirror. I put the car in gear and, making sure my tea was secure, I pulled out of the parking lot and up to the caution light. Despite the fact that I seemed to be the only car in a ten mile radius, it was flashing red.

I checked my phone. Still no signal.

Since I had nothing to do while I waited, I took a long drink out of my tea, which had definitely been worth stopping for. Sweet enough to make your heart stop - I would probably finish the whole thing, and I didn't even like tea. But I was kidding myself if I thought I'd stopped for the tea.

The light flashed orange.

_A left will take you to the interstate, but a right . . . will bring you right back here to me. _

I thought about Seattle and school and Aunt Rosalie and Uncle Emmett waiting for me, and about Daddy and how worried he must be that I hadn't checked in for a few hours, and how worried they all would be if I was late. I thought about how disappointed they would be when I explained how I'd gotten lost switching from highway to highway and wandered lost for nearly an hour. Then I thought about the whole point of talking Daddy into letting me take this trip - to prove that I could, to be an adult on my own. To feel independent.

And then I thought about Jacob the turnip guy, with his dark eyes and beautiful skin and silky hair. How tall and massive he was and how he'd smiled as he towered over me, giving directions and telling me to stop for tea. About how sweet the lady in the shop seemed to think he was and how she'd called him Jake. I thought about how stupid it was that I felt such a strong pull to him, when I'd never felt anything close with anybody else, and how bad I wanted to know what it felt like to press my mouth to his. I thought about how much time I was wasting and how none of this made any sense. I wondered about why it mattered so much anyway.

Then I turned right.

I tried not to bite my lip through as I drove back in the direction I came. I wrung my hands around the steering wheel so hard I was surprised I didn't drive off the road.

Okay, Renesmee, great job, Ms. Smarty Pants. What are you gonna do now? What do you expect to happen? Do you think you're in a movie? Do you think you're just gonna pull up and walk up to him and grab him and kiss him, no questions asked? He's so tall, to begin with, you couldn't even get to his mouth without his cooperation - for all you know, he could be married!

I looked up and saw the beat up Chevy right up ahead. Then a second later, my eyes zoomed in on the tall, dark figure leaning back in the lawn chair beside it. My stomach started doing acrobatics.

What the hell was I doing?

But I had no choice - it was stop or keep driving back in the wrong direction, which would mean another half hour behind schedule or turning around and driving back this way again, and as I was the only car on the road, it might cause him to believe he was being stalked.

I sucked in a deep breath, swallowed my pride, and pulled in. I tried to act like I was looking down in my lap, but my eyes were on the figure in the chair, and my heart was thundering. I saw him look up, but I probably imagined his face brightening - maybe he thought it was funny that I'd managed to get lost again with his simple directions.

I could barely breathe. What was I going to say?

I turned off the engine and opened the car door. I could hear my blood pounding in my ears. I felt like I was about to be shoved off a cliff - were there really girls who did this stuff all the time? How did guys manage it?

Jacob the turnip guy stood up to his full, impressive height as I tried to gracefully make my exit from the car. I was suddenly self-conscious, even moreso than before. I suddenly felt like my dress was too short - was my nail polish chipping? Oh what the hell did it even matter?

Could he hear my heart from there?

"Hey," he called out, and flashed a grin that almost made me melt into the grass at my feet. "Didn't get lost again, did you?"

Either answer was embarrassing for me, so why lie?

"N-no," I forced out, and made myself take a few steps closer. He did too. "The directions you gave were really good, thanks."

The smile didn't fade from his face, but his eyes narrowed a little, like he was trying to figure something out. I bit my lip and walked forward a couple more steps.

His put his hands in his pockets and somehow that made him look even taller. The closer we got, the huger he seemed. He was a mountain. What was I doing?

"You're . . . your name is Jacob, right?"

"Yeah," he said, coming to a stop about five feet in front of me. His teeth were so white against his skin. "That's what they call me."

"I just wanted to say . . . " That you're beautiful. That you make my stomach jump. That I want you to kiss me. "Thanks, I guess, for - the directions."

"What's your name, college girl?"

My breath caught in my throat. My knees felt a little bit like goo.

Seriously, he could call me college girl if he wanted. I'd call him turnip guy, and we could spend the rest of our lives just looking at each other. That would be totally cool with me.

I took a deep breath and made myself smile back, but I was sure I looked like a crazy person.

"Renesmee," I finally answered. God, of all the names my mother had to choose from . . . "I know it's weird - "

"I like it," Jacob said, before I could even get the rest of it out. He took his hands out of his pockets and shifted his weight on one leg. "It's different. Like you."

That it definitely was.

"Thank you?" Yeah, Renesmee, because "thank you" is a question. "I - "

I opened my mouth to say something else - I have no idea what; something embarrassing and out of place, most likely - when I felt a drop on my chest. I tore my eyes away from Jacob the turnip guy to look down at the droplet of water resting on the slope of my chest. It ran down until it met my dress and was absorbed by the fabric.

I looked back up to find Jacob's eyes where mine had been, at the same time I felt another drop on my shoulder, and then a third on my cheek.

"It's raining," I offered brilliantly.

A raindrop landed on Jacob's eyelash. He didn't seem to feel it. He just smiled at me like I was in the middle of telling him a joke. "It does that a lot here."

"It doesn't rain much in Phoenix."

The speed of the droplets increased, until five or six were landing on me at once.

"Well, then you're gonna love Seattle," he told me, shifting his weight forward. Him doing it made me realize I had been too.

"Have you ever been to Seattle?"

Jacob nodded slowly. "A few times."

His half-grin was amazing and embarrassing. I wanted to ask him why he was smiling at me so much, when I knew why. I was the random girl chatting him up in the middle of the rain. The rain that was slowly but surely picking up speed. Now I could feel it in my hair.

"Maybe uh - " His voice made my stomach flip. My heart caught in my throat. He was so tall. "Maybe I might be coming up there soon."

"Oh?" Oh. _Oh. _"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jacob bit his lip a little and it made my breath catch. "I think I just might."

I couldn't help but smile, and I didn't care. A breeze that had been starting up while I was rambling at him finally managed to move on of my curls. I don't know how I didn't jump a foot in the air or collapse onto the ground when Jacob the turnip guy pulled a hand out of his pocket and tucked the hair back behind my ear.

His skin was so warm. So warm. And not as rough as I thought it would be.

Then he put it back in his pocket. I felt let down.

"You'll want to be careful on your way to Seattle." He licked his lips. His dark, full lips that I would never kiss. "Especially if you're not used to driving in the rain."

"Yeah." I felt a twisting, and not the good kind, start up in my stomach. A lost chance. I felt like I wanted to cry. That was so stupid. "Yeah, I guess I should go before it gets worse."

My feet started taking steps back without me telling them to. They were trying to remove me from this embarrassing situation.

I'm sure this would be the talk of Turnip Town for the next few days. The weird red-haired stranger that got lost getting off the highway and tried to hit on that nice Jacob with disastrous attempts. No idea where she came from. Maybe she was easy. I mean, hitting on guys on the side of the road? Good thing Jacob was such a good guy. He just humored her and sent her on her way. He'll never see her again.

Damn it, Renesmee, you are such an idiot. Thank God the only witness to your humiliation is a stranger you'll never have to meet again.

My helpful feet turned me around and I took a few steps. I thought I heard a sharp breath from behind me, but rain makes all kinds of noises. I was halfway to my car when my legs stopped moving. Something moved in my brain, and something else settled in my chest.

I was never going to see him again. I was already embarrassed. I wanted to kiss Jacob the beautiful turnip guy. I wanted to kiss him like I'd never wanted to kiss anybody before. The whole town was already going to hear this story and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. How could this situation possibly become any worse? If I was going to be a humiliating small town legend, why not go down big?

And hey, maybe in a few decades, once the humiliation faded, it could be a great story for my grandkids. Grandkids who weren't tall and dark-skinned and didn't sell turnips.

I turned back around. Jacob was still standing there with his hands in his pockets.

I closed the half a dozen steps between us with purpose. My blood was thundering in my ears but I ignored it. In a second I was as close as we had been a minute ago, and a second later I was closer. I didn't think. I reached up - so, so far up - and wrapped my hands around the back of turnip guy's neck.

I had to pull up hard to reach his mouth, stretching my height to its absolute limit and pulling him down some too. My toes skimmed the dirt - two strong, warm hands closed around my waist - and my lips met Jacob's with a flash.

It felt like a flash anyway.

A warm, electric flash. A lightning jolt under water. Sparks went off under my eyelids.

Jacob's mouth was soft - like his hands, softer than I expected it to be. I'm not sure what a kiss was supposed to feel like, but this one felt just fine. Terrifying, but not scary. The huge hands holding my waist made it feel okay, safe. And when they moved, around and up my back, I swooned.

Literally, swooned.

The arms caught me though, and then I was wrapped in them, and then the soft lips were moving. Parting, until one of mine was between both of his, and I took it back.

I took it all back. I didn't want to go to school. I didn't not care if I never saw Jacob again. It did matter what happened with this because I'd read enough books and watched enough movies to know that those things were unrealistic, and when something made you feel like a girl in a romance movie, you needed to hold onto it like hell. I was kissing a handsome stranger in the rain, for Christ's sake, and I couldn't remember why I'd ever thought this was a bad idea.

Jacob's mouth was insane. Strong and soft and warm and - and wet. God, wet.

One of the hands moved up to my hair, his strong fingers threading through the hair at my scalp. Then, firmly but gently, he held my head in place. Jacob pulled away, parting our lips for a heart-stopping second, but then he was back. Gone, then back again, and again. Short, deep kisses.

Finally, he pulled back further than before, for a millisecond longer, and my eyes opened. My breath caught. His face was close, and beautiful. He smelled like hard work and the woods. His body was strong and hard and right up against mine.

And he smiled that smile at me again.

"I'm so glad you did that," he admitted, with a burst of breath. The arm around my waist squeezed me tight, bowing my body. His teeth flashed. "I was not ready for you to leave."

My heart did a cartwheel. Hope sprouted in my belly. "D'you think you'll be able to make it up to Seattle sometime?"

"Anytime," he answered immediately, licking his lips, which made me look at them. "I'll be there this weekend, college girl."

And before I could think it through, my mouth spouted back, "Shut up and kiss me, turnip guy."

My mouth fell open as I'd realized what I'd said, but Jacob just raised an eyebrow and lifted me a little higher, so my toes lost contact with the ground completely. The rain was much more than a drizzle now, but nobody noticed. His skin was warm under my hands, and the hair I twirled my fingers through was soft.

"I am so damn glad I covered for Seth today," Jacob growled, bringing my head back in to capture my lips in a harder kind of kiss than before. One I could feel in my fingertips.

I was too busy to let him know I was glad too. I didn't know how long we were going to stand there, kissing in the rain. I just knew I would be getting to Seattle late tonight, that I already couldn't wait for the weekend, and that I couldn't believe my luck.

Thank God for good directions and turnip greens.

_fin._


End file.
